


Ice Cubes And Rubber Bands

by WeCanDoIt



Series: Now is this just fiction or is it real, 'cause baby, you gotta make up your pretty mind... [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Sexual Tension, Van Days, also grimy stinky van days, but then again when is there not any form of sexual tension between frank and gerard, or maybe not, this is basically about ice cubes and rubber bands and gerard being a girl, who knows i might be adding another little drabble to that one, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeCanDoIt/pseuds/WeCanDoIt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>„It’s hot.“</p><p>„Shut up.“</p><p>„It’s so fucking hot and I’m <em>melting.</em>“</p><p>“You’ve said that like fifty fucking times in a row now shut the fuck up and stop whining!” Frank grits through his teeth, wiping the sweat off his forehead.</p><p>“It’s not my fault that we are stranded here in the middle of fucking nowhere, Frank”, Gerard says, a bitchy undertone in his voice. It almost sounds like he’s trying to pick a fight. Frank takes a deep breath and closes his eyes; it’s too fucking hot to deal with Gerard’s allures right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Cubes And Rubber Bands

„It’s hot.“

„Shut up.“

„It’s so fucking hot and I’m _melting._ “

“You’ve said that like fifty fucking times in a row now shut the fuck up and stop whining!” Frank grits through his teeth, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“It’s not my fault that we are stranded here in the middle of fucking nowhere, Frank”, Gerard says, a bitchy undertone in his voice. It almost sounds like he’s trying to pick a fight. Frank takes a deep breath and closes his eyes; it’s too fucking hot to deal with Gerard’s allures right now. 

“It may be a little less hot if you’d just slip out of that stinky, old and - to be honest - pretty disgusting hoodie of yours. Hell, since when are you wearing that thing anyway? It seems it’s been weeks since I’ve seen you wearing anything other than that.”

To that Gerard hisses defiantly and narrows his eyes down to slits. When it comes to clothing he’s always been a little…special. If you’d ask him he’d probably write you a three page essay on the fact that there’s nothing wrong with owning just three hoodies and wearing them over and over again in a row, so if one starts to smell just switch to the next one and if it becomes unbearable, maybe wash them if you’re in a good mood. 

Frank sighs and reaches into the trunk of the van to retrieve his guitar. If they are stranded in the middle of nowhere already, why not at least make some use of it?

Gerard pushes his ridiculously long mop of hair out of his face and groans in agony. Out of the corner of his eyes Frank can see him watching him, a sullen pout on his lips. Sometimes Gerard reminds him of a child with a constant need of being entertained and not a grown man. What was it that made most lead singers such whiny brats?

Even though all four doors of the van are pushed open to let the air at least circulate a bit, inside it feels like being thrown on a barbecue. By the time Frank starts strumming the first few chords, Gerard starts tapping his fingers onto the dashboard of the car. Frank takes a deep breath and closes his eyes because seriously, it _is_ fucking hot and he’s so not in the fucking mood for that shit. But Gerard remains oblivious to Franks growing anger and not only keeps tapping his goddamned fingers, he also starts humming along to some ridiculously stupid song and it takes mere seconds for Frank to whirl around and yell at him.

“For fuck’s sake Gerard, I’m gonna rip your fucking dick off if you’re not fucking still the next fucking second!”  
Much to his surprise Gerard actually turns around and stops, staring at Frank with wide eyes before slowly retrieving his fingers from the dashboard.  
“Good boy”, Frank grunts. “And now stay like that!” 

For a while Frank relishes in playing in such peaceful quiet, but after about ten minutes without anything from Gerard he starts to get suspicious. Because if Gerard stays quiet that long, it’s usually because he’s up to something. Sighing softly, Frank stops playing and leans his guitar against the outside frame of the van. When he turns back at Gerard he finds him still sitting in the exact same position as ten minutes ago, with his back to the dashboard and his knees drawn up against the seat of the car. The pout was still present on his face but now it was looking more hurt than bitchy and Frank thinks he’s resembling an overgrown five year old more than ever. 

“Jesus”, Frank growls and rolls his eyes, getting out of the car and stretching his limbs. They really were in the middle of fucking nowhere. Just road and fields as far as one could look; apart from that – nothing. No cars, no trees (so no fucking shade, thanks very much nature); no sign of civilization. It’s been two hours since the van had spontaneously decided to fucking break down on the middle of that fucking road in the middle of fucking nowhere. A few minutes of pointless discussion ended up in Ray and Mikey making their way back to the last town they had passed, which was barely half an hour away. By car. Now it’s already been an hour since they left. Gerard had opted to accompany them but since he’d been a whiny drama queen for most of the drive Bob had finally spoken up and told Gerard to ‘stay the fuck in the van if you don’t want your head ripped off’. Frank had no intentions to leave anyway, so he figured he’d stay and chill a bit in the sun. Which is, admittedly, a little bit reckless right now, in the heat of noon. 

“It’s so _fucking_ hot” Gerard drawls, fanning his face with the flyer of some club they had played at a few days ago. 

“I already told you”, Frank says and then gets out of the car, stretches and pulls off his sweat soaked shirt – and god, that was so much better - “Shed some fucking layers and stop whining.”  
Gerard peeks at him over the head-rest of his seat and pouts again. After a few moments of silent contemplation he finally but reluctantly pulls off his hoodie to reveal a very old and very crumpled looking star wars t shirt. Frank keeps himself from rolling his eyes at the way Gerard hunches in on himself, seemingly feeling uncomfortable. He doesn’t get why Gerard is so fucking self conscious about his body. Frank is by no means an Atlas himself, in fact he feels a little bit too scrawny, but hell, he had never in any way felt bad about his body. It was his body after all, so it had to be awesome. 

But Gerard is a completely different case. He is simultaneously a big, narcissistic diva and a self-conscious piece of misery, which Frank finds both peculiar and strangely endearing. 

Right now Gerard looks moderately unhappy without the protection of his hoodie however. 

“Better now?” Frank asks. 

“No”, Gerard huffs sullenly; “I’m still melting. I’m curious to see how you’re gonna do the next gig without a lead singer, if I’m to be reduced to a sorry little puddle in the middle of nowhere.” He purses his lips and shoves his hand up into his hair, twists it once and holds it up so the slight breeze that had picked up and was now very pleasantly brushing through the open van could touch the back of his neck.

“Oh god, so much better”, he moans and Frank pulls a face. You could count on Gerard to take the oddest things as an excuse to throw himself into the spotlight and make a big show. Because no matter how shy and self-conscious Gerard may be in private; on stage he was a diva, a fucking entertainer. 

All of a sudden Gerard turns back around to reach into the glove department, and retrieves a small plastic bag a second later. 

“Seriously dude? You really wanna smoke now?” Frank asks. 

“Why not? Doesn’t look like Ray and Mikey are gonna return anytime soon, so...”

“Yeah speaking of, where the hell is Bob?” 

“No idea. Probably went with Ray; haven’t seen him in a while now”, Gerard shrugs. “Or maybe he’s already lying dead in the desert, feast to the vultures.” Gerard giggles this croaky, raspy trademark giggle of his. Frank stretches again, touching the skin on his shoulders. Fuck, this is probably gonna be the sunburn of doom.  
Gerard, who followed Frank’s actions, narrows his eyes before puffing a stray strand of jet black hair out of his face and humming gleefully; “That’s what you get for running around topless like a big douchebag, what was that even, were you trying to put on a show for me?” He leans over the van’s armrest to peek up at Frank who was still standing outside on the road through his lashes. When he catches Frank’s irritated expression he snickers and blows him a kiss. Frank only flips him off and earns another kissy face from Gerard, who then just chuckles and goes back to his task of rolling a joint with his left hand and still holding up his shoulder-length hair with his right. 

Frank shuffles back to the trunk in search of anything to drink when he hears Gerard cursing grumpily under his breath. 

“Fucking fuck, motherfucker! Ow!” 

“Jeez, what happened now?” 

Frank can hear him groan in frustration and knowing Gerard and his mood-swings he is aware that it probably won’t take much longer before he’ll snap. 

“I can’t fucking roll a fucking blunt and hold up my fucking hair at the same time but I swear to god if it touches my neck again, blood will be shed because it’s too fucking hot and everything is sticky and the dashboard is burning my skin and WHO THE FUCK EVEN INVENTED SUMMER?”

“Wait a minute”, Frank suddenly says and dips back into the depths of the trunk. He hears Gerard groan again and flop back against the seat in defeat.  
“Jackpot!” after a few moments Frank surfaces again with a bottle of water and a cooler in his left hand and something small clutched in his right. 

When he slides on the driver’s seat next to him, Gerard’s still glaring at nothing in particular, pixie nose scrunched up and lips pressed tightly together. He looks adorable.  
“Turn around”, Frank says and Gerard raises one eyebrow at him. “Just turn around, come on” Frank says, sounding a little annoyed, but much to his surprise Gerard for once actually turns without making a fuss.  
And before he really knows what’s happening Frank is grabbing hold of his hair, twisting it into a loose bun and fixing it at the base of his skull with a rubber band. 

“There you go”, he states dryly, nodding and leaning back in his seat, looking satisfied with his work. And when Gerard turns back around he’s pretty sure his face is red like a fire truck and he just gapes at Frank, not able to say anything. 

“What?” Frank asks, “Ain’t that a lot better? That way your hair stays out of your face and- oh, wait, let me-“and with that he reaches forward to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen into Gerard’s face, and he gets too close for comfort and Gerard blushes even harder, _goddammit._

A few agonizing moments later Gerard is still staring at Frank, a suspicious blush present on his cheeks and right now Frank would really like to taunt him with how adorable he was looking, but Gerard seems like he’ll cry any moment so Frank decides to leave it be.  
Finally Gerard manages to regain control and mutters under his breath, “Thanks for making me look even more like a fucking woman.”

“Whatever man, I think it’s pretty cute”, Frank huffs and leans back in his seat, closing his eyes and humming contently.  
Which leaves Gerard sitting there like a deer caught in headlights, blushing furiously and wondering if it was possible that the temperature may have risen another ten degrees.

Just to occupy himself, Gerard grabs the bottle of water Frank had retrieved and takes a sip. 

“Goddammit motherfucker, that stuff tastes like piss!” he hisses and spits the lukewarm water right out of the car door onto the dusty concrete. 

“You taste like piss”, Frank replies lazily, adjusting himself on his seat and Gerard can’t help but stare at the way his muscles are moving under his tattooed skin and once he realizes that he’s been staring he turns away and smiles nervously.

“S’it warm?”

“Like your mom’s vagina, it’s gross!”, Gerard spits and pulls a face. 

“Then why the heck”, Frank begins and opens the cooler, “haven’t we put it in there because in there’s fucking ice cubes! Check it out, dude, ice cubes, why are we getting that only now?” He grabs one and twists it between his fingers, watching the water lazily drip off.  
Gerard takes a look into the cooler and draws away in disappointment. 

He sighs “There’s been beer once, too.”, with a melancholy that would have put a Broadway actor to shame. 

“Yeah but now there’s ice cubes and that’s a hundred times fucking better!” Frank continues to suck the ice cube into his mouth with an obscene wet slurp that has Gerard shifting uncomfortably. 

“Hey Gee”, Frank says around the cube in his mouth. “You ever got an ice kiss?”

“What?” Gerard gasps and mentally facepalms himself at how uneasy his voice sounds. 

“An ice kiss”, Frank states and presses the cube against his lips; “something like that-“; suddenly leaning over and pushing Gerard’s head over to expose his neck.

“What-“ Gerard asks dumbly again but then Frank’s lips are on his neck and fuck they are cold and he feels himself shuddering and Frank giggling, the sound vibrating against his throat. Just when Gerard thinks he can’t handle it any longer, because his mind has gone fucking blank and his body is not cooperating anymore Frank draws back, and Gerard sighs in relief. A second later however, Frank’s lips are re-attached against his neck and he hears him crunching the remains of the cube between his teeth and swallowing them before opening his mouth and sucking lazily at Gerard’s throat.  
 _Fuck._ Gerard feels like he has forgotten how to breathe and he gasps a little, squirming on his seat. When Frank finally lets go with a wet pop, a few droplets of melted ice run down Gerard’s neck and into the collar of his shirt. He shivers. 

Then Frank laughs and leans back against the driver’s seat again, and just like that, the strange moment is broken. Gerard still feels like sitting on needles, because that wasn’t the first time something like that happened. But every time, just like now, Frank would retreat right after and act like nothing fucking unusual. 

“Frank?”

“Hmmm?” Frank replies, not opening his eyes. 

“Uh- Nothing” Gerard hums and Frank grunts, shifting in his seat. 

“Then shut up, I’m trying to get some rest” Frank mumbles drowsily and Gerard feels his lips parting into a tiny smile. Whatever, maybe it really did mean nothing. And if nothing else, then he was at least finally having his joint now.  
Rearranging his stuff on the still burning hot dashboard, Gerard finds himself looking out the window and at the width of the field enrolling before them; and all of a sudden he can’t help but realize how long it’s been since he last felt that genuinely happy.

 

So yeah, it _is_ fucking hot, and his clothes _are_ sticking to his body and the water tastes like piss and they are almost broke and out of gasoline and in the middle of fucking nowhere with a trunk full of instruments, but he’s there with exactly the people he values and likes to have around the most and it’s awesome. _It’s freedom._

 

And suddenly Gerard is hit with the realization that he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

 

Okay, except maybe a cup of coffee, and a new set of those awesome markers he’d seen at that one paint store a few weeks ago, but hey, a man has to have his priorities, right? Right.

**Author's Note:**

> It's fluff! Meaningless fluff I'd never thought I'd write, but where I live it almost reached 40°C today and believe me, _this is torture._  
>  Also, studying is fucking frustrating me because I just can't seem to concentrate and also my motivation has gone darkside and turned into procrastination and I just felt like writing something short and carefree.
> 
> Hope you like it!


End file.
